It's Kind of a Funny Story
by just-grey
Summary: Loosely based off of the film. Blaine accidentally/purposely checks himself into a mental hospital when he's 15 and has to stay for at least five days.
1. The Beginning

He's standing on top of his (ex) school's roof. The wind blows through his curly hair and he pushes it back impatiently so he can look down over the ledge. From here, he feels powerful, free, and peaceful. He sighs as he steps onto the ledge, closes his eyes as the familiar speaks from behind him.

"My goodness, Blaine, you couldn't have at least locked up your bike?"

Blaine cranes his neck to look at his father, mother and sister.

"I-I'm sorry, dad."

His mother gives him _the look_ – the polite little smile, with eyes that read disappointment.

"As you should be, dear. That bike was a rather expensive gift."

Blaine nods.

"I guess I wasn't thinking."  
>His father waves dismissive hand.<p>

"Yes, yes, that's alright. But, really son, you're being rather selfish. Haven't you thought about how this might affect your sister?"

Blaine widens his eyes, turning fully to stare at his sister. This is new, he thinks; usually they just harp on him about his bike or all the unfinished schoolwork he needs to catch up on.

But not this, never this.

His sister looks at him, and Blaine is suddenly reminded of that night three months ago. How Gemma had found him lying on the pavement, bloody and broken. How Gemma's eyes had been the first he'd seen when he woke up – his blood still caked on her hands and her new dress. How she still can't wear red without having a panic attack.

And for the first time, Blaine feels guilty, feels scared. He wants to get off this ledge and hug Gemma, read her his favorite poems from his worn book and tell her he'll be okay.

But he can't. Because he can't look at those wide and frightened eyes and _lie_.

The wind blows harder, and harder, and Blaine loses his balance.

He falls, down, down, down.

He wakes with a gasp.

Blaine rides his bike in the early morning. The air is crisp and cold against his skin, but he doesn't mind. He pedals faster, winces at the pain of his still healing bruises.

When he reaches the school, he gets off his bike.

Blaine sighs deeply, still not quite sure when he made it to the hospital's waiting room.

He glances around, notices the other two people in the room; a tired woman, and a scruffy, out of place looking doctor.

When his name is called, he calmly follows a nurse who is probably wondering what he's doing here at five in the morning.

When he enters the small examination room a tall Indian man gives him a kind smile and tells him to sit.

The doctor, who introduces himself to Blaine as Dr. Bari, asks him some basic questions as he takes Blaine's blood pressure.

When he's finished with his short examination, he looks at his clipboard, then back at Blaine.

"So, Blaine, on your form it says you were contemplating suicide. How long have you…felt this way?"

Blaine sighs, thinks for a bit.

"Well, I've been depressed for about a year, but I've only felt like…you know, ending it, for a couple of weeks, maybe a month." He says with a shrug.

Dr. Bari nods and scribbles something.

"Well, Blaine, why don't you sit tight and we'll call your parents. Then we can discuss therapy and maybe medication-"

"Isn't there something you can do now? Dr. Bari, please, just don't call my parents. I'm desperate, please-"

The man nods solemnly, swipes his pen across the paper.

Soon, Blaine is escorted by a man named Bill, who has greasy hair and dresses like a hipster, to the hospital's psychiatric ward.

He wonders what he got himself into.


	2. Monday

_Day 1, Monday_

He's sitting in front of a desk. Across from him is a small, tan nurse with the lightest grey eyes he's ever seen. She gives him a small smile and introduces herself as Elaine.

Bill the Greasy Haired Hipster is standing over his shoulder, humming a song.

Elaine looks down at his file, bites her lip and then looks up again.

"Okay, Blaine. Do you have any sharp objects on you? Keys, a pocketknife…?"

Blaine reaches into his pocket and hands her his keys.

Elaine takes his keys and tucks them away in a plastic bag labeled, "B. Anderson".

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair as Bill taps a rhythm on his shoulder.

"I also need your belt and shoelaces, please."

Blaine straightens at this, frowns at Elaine in confusion.

"Um…why?"

Elaine gives an amused smile at Bill, and then gives Blaine a sympathetic one.

"We don't want any accidents."

Blaine looks down at his lap, still a bit confused because what - _Oh_.

So he quietly, and a bit reluctantly, gives her his shoelaces and belt with shaking fingers.

He doesn't belong here.

He doesn't, he doesn't.

Bill escorts him to his room, pauses outside the door to give Blaine a squeeze on the shoulder.

"See 'ya later, Blainers!"

Blaine nods, mumbles a "yeah", to Bill's retreating back.

He enters his room as quietly as he can.

Blaine was informed by Elaine that the teenage ward is being renovated, so Blaine is stuck with a 58 year old Egyptian man who apparently has never left his room.

He sits stiffly on his bed; his roommate, Muqtada, appears to be sleeping, but every once in a while Blaine hears him mutters something in a language he doesn't know.

Blaine was hoping for something quick and easy, maybe some medication and they'd send him on his way.

Instead, he gets an uncomfortable room and a co-ed shower at the Westerville Psychiatric Ward.

At ten, he gets a visit from his father and sister.

He's a bit surprised when Luke, the tall, blonde nurse with a crooked smile, leads him down the hall, and then he's standing face to face with his nervous looking father and fragile little sister.

When Charles Anderson sees his son, he sighs in relief and gives Blaine a light and brief hug. Gemma, with her light grey cardigan and sky blue skirt, sucks in a breath and wrings her hands – a habit she picked up recently, one Blaine tries and fails to get her to quit.

Luke leads them to a quaint little room meant for visitors and closes the door softly. Blaine moves to sit on one couch, while his father and Gemma sit opposite him.

Charles leans forward, his glasses slipping a bit down his nose, his elbows leaning on his knees.

"Are you okay son? They treating you okay here? I, well, I thought you might need some things so I brought you some clothes and such."

Blaine takes the duffel bag from Charles, tucks it under his arm, and gives his father a small smile.

"Thanks, dad."

Charles nods, looks around the room, fiddles with his glasses.

"How long?" His sister asks in a soft voice.

Blaine looks at her, frowning.

"How long what, Gems?"

She sighs, runs her hands over invisible wrinkles on her skirt.

"How long will you be staying, B?"

He shakes his head, grins at his nickname.

"I don't know."

She nods, touches his hands briefly(hers are always cold and he wishes she would hold on longer).

"It'll be okay, B, it will. I promise."

Charles finally stops looking at anywhere other than Blaine. He stands, steps closer to Blaine as Blaine rises also. His father gives him a rare look, one that Blaine remembers only from his childhood when Charles would read him tales in his study until Blaine fell asleep, and ruffles Blaine curls.

"Just try to get better, Blaine, okay?"

Blaine finds himself nodding, feels like he's five again.

"Okay. I'll try."

He meets Bobby at lunch.

Bobby, an older man wearing a dark green sweater and a very scruffy face, beckons him over to his table.

"Come sit with the men, Blaine."

Blaine is a little scared, but makes his way over anyway(he's a bit tired of eating alone, and it's either Bobby and two harmless looking men or Alfie the Schizophrenic, who keeps wanting to know why Blaine's hair is so big and if he keeps birds in it).

"How did you know my name?"

Bobby shrugs, moves his peas around on his plate.

"I was in the waiting room with you this morning. You looked a bit…lost."

Blaine wrinkles his nose at his milk, and then turns to Bobby.

"But… there were only two people in that waiting room; a woman and a doc – oh."

Bobby raises his eyebrows, smiles as he takes a large bite.

Blaine slowly finds himself relaxing through lunch. Bobby introduces him to Leo and Hank and he even manages to get Blaine to eat some of his food.

Blaine now has three friends, which is a big improvement, really.

He passes Alfie on his way to his first meeting with Dr. Lane, his therapist. Alfie ruffles his hair and mutters about him hiding his birds or _something_.

When he enters Dr. Lane's office, he's met with the smell of tea and cookies and just, _warmth_. Dr. Lane, a beautiful black woman with the kindest smile he's ever seen beckons him in and offers him tea.

"So, Blaine. Tell me about yourself."

Blaine takes a small sip of tea as he sits.

"Um…well, you what would you like to know?"

She smiles, leans back in her chair.

"What would you like to tell me?"

He sighs and sinks further down.

"To be perfectly honest? Nothing."

Much to his surprise, she nods, gives Blaine a smile that reaches her eyes.

"That's alright. How about you tell me about your family then?"

He nods, he can do that.

"Okay. My parents are divorced, have been for about five years. My dad is an English professor; my mom is a flight attendant, so she travels a lot. My sister, Gemma, she just turned fourteen, we live with our dad."

Dr. Lane writes on her notepad for a minute, and then looks up at Blaine.

"Was it hard for you when your parents divorced?"

Blaine shrugs, takes another sip of his tea.

"Not really. I mean, my mom was gone a lot anyway. And when she was home she was either fighting with my dad or telling Gemma and I we needed to be better at this or that. Anyway, I guess it's just better now."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, I mean, she's worse with Gemma, so much worse. But, she'll just give you this look – it's this polite little smile, but her eyes, her eyes tell you everything. How disappointed she is that you aren't the top of your class, or don't have a pretty girlfriend, or aren't the captain of the soccer team. I guess my dad got tired of it, and they divorced. She doesn't visit often, and it's better that way."

Dr. Lane writes quickly, continues with her questions.

"Why do you think your mother wants you to be the best at everything? Why does she think you need to prove something?"

And he gives a bitter laugh, ready for this kind woman to turn into someone hateful when he says, "Because I'm gay."

He waits, waits for a frown or a sigh of disappointment; but he's unprepared when he gets none of this.

Instead, Dr. Lane reaches over and holds his hand, her kind smile never wavering.

"You've done really well today, Blaine. I'm proud of you. We'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

He blinks.

"About that. Dr. Lane, no disrespect, but I was sort of hoping for something quick. Isn't there some medication you can just give me and send me home? I have this meeting for a new school on Monday and-"

"Five days, Blaine. No more than thirty. We'll have an evaluation to see if you're ready to leave on Thursday, okay?"

Well, then.


End file.
